A photo of slain priest Jacques Hamel at a memorial at the Saint-Etienne-du-Rouvray city hall, near Rouen, France. ‘In France, where attacks began in 2012, talk of “war” with jihadi terrorism has become commonplace.’ Photograph: Ian Langsdon/EPA

After six terrorist assaults on civilians in less than a fortnight, France and Germany are reeling from a series of shocks that, beyond the immediate fears and tensions they have sown, will increasingly test Europe’s liberal democratic order. Both countries are experiencing an unprecedented wave of violent acts just as they gear up for key elections next year. An already volatile, angst-ridden situation is amplified by a political context of rising populism and partisan point-scoring.

As France struggles to cope with the aftermath of the killing of Father Jacques Hamel in his church near Rouen, barely 24 hours after Germany had experienced its fourth assault in a single week, the sentiment is growing that life as people have known it is unravelling; and that the new normal may resemble a mixture of unpredictable, hidden dangers and a rush to large-scale security measures. In France, where attacks began in 2012, talk of “war” with jihadi terrorism has become commonplace. There is a nationwide state of emergency. Germany neither talks of war, nor is there a state of emergency. But after Ansbach, the first Islamic State-claimed suicide bombing in Germany, the interior minister, Thomas de Maizière, acknowledged that Germany too had become a target for international terrorism.

In the immediate aftermath of each attack, the question is always why it was not foiled. In France, security flaws are blamed. In Germany, the argument is about monitoring refugees. The questions swirl regardless of whether or not there is a connection with last year’s massive refugee movement into Europe, or with radical Islam.

In both France and Germany in the aftermath of attacks, political passions quickly flared; but it is France’s political cohesion that appears under the greater strain. France’s show of national unity after the 2015 attacks in Paris swiftly fell apart in the aftermath of the Nice attack. François Hollande is now struggling to defend his credibility and resist growing demands for heightened security measures. Some of his rightwing critics even call for a “French Guantánamo”. Marine Le Pen’s far right Front National seized on Tuesday’s attack to say France’s “Christian roots” are in peril. Anti-immigrant hyperbole is rife. In Germany, political reactions are comparatively more subdued: Chancellor Angela Merkel’s popularity and authority remain strong. Her CSU Bavarian coalition partner wants stringent controls on migrants but, perhaps because its electoral prospects still hinge on the alliance with the chancellor’s CSU in the run-up to next year’s general election, it has avoided direct personal attacks on her. Germany’s far right has grown but it is still dwarfed by the French Front National. The anti-immigrant AfD party has prospered on a narrative of rejecting Muslims, but stumbled when it hastily and erroneously described the Munich attack as an act of jihadi fundamentalism.

Germany’s sense of its own history is a strong antidote against some of the more extremist tendencies currently at play in France. Where France’s political leadership has spoken more about the need to come out “victorious” from a “war” than about the tolerance and efforts needed to make diversity an asset rather than a problem, German officials have gone to great lengths to insist that terrorism should not be conflated with refugees or immigrants. Personal styles differ too: whereas Mr Hollande wants to appear combative and resolute against the “enemy”, Mrs Merkel expresses empathy for the victims rather than a penchant for military-type measures.

Whatever the contrasts, in heated political contexts ahead of each nation’s 2017 elections, the decisions and attitudes these leaders endorse will set an example for the whole of Europe. Two countries that already set the tone on many issues across a continent now scarred by hostility to refugees hover on the edge of deep, newly shared, uncertainties.